Her Melting Point

Progress on All Fronts

The dream felt as if sticky: like walking into a dark shed and getting a faceful of thick cobwebs; and still feeling a few strands on one's neck long after, no matter how much one brushed their hands over their skin.

Gabe's phone call must have set her off - and she was once again in their house, which following the dream logic looked like her stepfather's flat. There were some small animals, hamsters or unnaturally wee puppies; and she was supposed to keep them safe in a plastic tub. Again and again, one or two would somehow end up on the floor; and she would carefully scoop a trembling fluffy ball in her hands and return it, anxiously trying not to squish it. And then the scene changed; and there was some sort of a thick metal door in front of her; and she knew she needed to get through it; but there was no keyhole; and she patted it, and then slammed her hands into it, which echoed inside of it. There was someone on the other side, waiting for her; someone who needed her; or maybe she needed them - and she was hitting the cold metal with her fists, hopelessly.

The familiar sharp pain in her lower stomach woke her up; and she grabbed a pair of knickers, stumbled into the ensuite, and found a night pad in the medicine cabinet, while trying to let as little light under her eyelids as possible. Since he started regularly staying over - and since California, Alexander had only spent three nights in his flat - she'd been sleeping in one of the sexy short nightdresses she'd purchased specifically with this arrangement in mind. The man preferred getting his kip unclad - and his hands and mouth tended to wander even before he was properly awake. Intricate lace designs and sheer detailing helped Jackie to feel less like the aforementioned 'bedroom capybara;' given, his approving purring and growling and bites and kisses helped even more. This time her desire for comfort won over; and she pulled on her well-loved flannel pyjama bottoms and curled into him.

First, his alarm started shrieking; and then he softly called her name, his hand on her shoulder.

"Jackie, it's half past six."

She groaned and burrowed into her pillow. The pillow was soft and smelled like Alexander. Jackie decisively wasn't parting with it.

"Jackie."

"I changed my mind," she groused and pulled her duvet over her head. "I don't want to. You go alone."

"Are you sure?" he asked after a long pause.

"Yeah." She felt him rise from the bed; and she stuck her hand out of her cocoon and grabbed what she could reach. It was his bare leg. "You are coming back, right?" she asked.

If she were honest, she was prepared to beg him to return to the cottage, and then to make her a hot-water bottle, and a cuppa, and comfort and coddle her, and pat her head and tell her she was a poor ducky and how much it sucked - because Jackie's 'time of the month' was a torture wrapped in agony with a side of torment. But he was a young male who'd probably never cohabitation with a person who bled. Gabe had shown nothing but disgust for the whole thing; and sometimes he'd even slept in a different room during those days.

"I will."

She felt a soft kiss on her cheek, and she whined weakly, feeling utterly sorry for herself. She must have fallen asleep right after; and it was the noise of him taking a shower that woke her up.

"Alexander?"

He stepped out of the bathroom, ruffling his hair with a towel, which conversely was the only piece of fabric in the proximity to his body. Even groggy and in physical pain, Jackie couldn't help but to leer a tad. It was unwise, though: her body reacted, and a cramp made her pull her knees to her stomach.

"Morning," he grumbled. "Coffee?"

"No, I'll have tea today," she answered, wincing. "And I know we planned an omelette; but if you don't mind, could I have some of your porridge?"